


Young Thunder

by BlackMajjicDuchess



Series: Namesake [7]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, F/M, Innuendo, Mischief, Mythology - Freeform, Relationship Advice, Riddles, Teacher-Student Relationship, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 08:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1380685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackMajjicDuchess/pseuds/BlackMajjicDuchess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I got the idea in my head one day to bring some of the Naruto characters face-to-face with the thing they were named after for the first time. I thought it might be fun. Also accepting challenges!</p><p>Stories will be posted separately but as part of the Namesake series.</p><p>Part 7: Young Thunder</p><p>Jiraiya struggles to be the man that Tsunade would love, and so he asks his sensei for some advice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Young Thunder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [larryjc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/larryjc/gifts).



> To issue a challenge, just comment on one of the stories in the series with the name you'd like to see done. The only stipulation is that it HAS to be a name that has a meaning, and it has to be a meaning that is something one can encounter. Example: Madara means "spots." What the heck am I supposed to do with that? On the other hand, Naruto's name refers to some kind of fish cake, which is something he could confront somehow.
> 
> Jiraiya challenge from larryjc
> 
> Jiraiya = Young Thunder

Some days, he wasn’t sure if he loved or hated his sensei more. Hiruzen Sarutobi was an infuriating man. On one hand, he was powerful, brave, intelligent, and kind. He looked after his students as he would his own children, encouraging their strong points and guiding them appropriately down their paths to become Shinobi. On the other hand, he severely limited their level of fun and kept them from enjoying some of the finer things in life. That, and Jiraiya was convinced that Sarutobi favored Orochimaru over Tsunade and himself, a theory that enraged him as much as it pushed him to do better. If he was strong enough, would people look at him instead of Orochimaru? 

It made him crazy that no one acknowledged his skills. Tsunade was so smitten by Orochimaru’s genius that she never looked twice at him. Sarutobi was so impressed by Orochimaru’s natural skill that Jiraiya was always stuck with the less glamorous and oft overlooked second place. The only time anyone paid any attention to him was when he was getting into trouble or disappointing someone.

It was a vicious cycle, and one that often led to acting out. Like the current situation. He’d been caught summoning tadpoles in the women’s baths. He’d have gotten away with it, too, if Tsunade hadn’t been among the bathers. The shuddering squeal when something slimy slithered between her legs was so worth it, though. He still had fits of laughter just thinking about it!

If only he could be so lucky as those tadpoles, though…

He found his sensei seated on the roof of Hokage tower, meditating. It was dark, and raining. Thunderstorms were just starting. How Sarutobi could accept a quiet sit in the pouring rain, however, was beyond Jiraiya’s comprehension. Why didn’t he meditate inside where it was warm and dry? Seeing the old man’s placid face as the rain drizzled down it just inflamed him more. “Old man,” he growled, not wishing to waste any time sitting in the damp. “Why do you hate me so much?” If he could understand why Sarutobi didn't appreciate him, perhaps he could begin to fathom why Tsunade was so disinterested as well. 

There was the hiss of air through water as Sarutobi loosed a long breath. “Sit with me, Jiraiya,” he commanded.

“Are you kidding me? It’s pouring out, or hadn’t you noticed?” A loud crack of thunder punctuated his words. He gestured wildly at the weather, but Sarutobi’s eyes were closed and he didn’t seem to care.

“The rain and the thunderstorms are good for the soul,” he countered, hardly flinching at all. A softer rumble of more distant thunder rolled through the air.

Jiraiya’s eyes scrolled upward. Rain poured into his eyes. His sensei was still nonplussed, though, and he wasn’t going to get any information out of him otherwise. With a heavy and disgruntled sigh, he lowered himself to the rooftop next to the old man. “I don’t hate you, Jiraiya,” he said finally. “But you are… challenging.”

Jiraiya glanced at his sensei’s face. He was smirking. Seeing a smile there instead of a frown made him feel marginally better, and so he spoke more freely. “I feel as if you like Orochimaru more than you like me,” he confessed. “Tsunade likes him better, too. Where is my place in this world? Who am I?”

“Hmm…” Sarutobi mused aloud, never breaking his concentration. There was a blinding flash of lightning as a bolt raced across the sky in a curving arc like a dragon’s dance. Jiraiya was distracted by it, for it was beautiful and awesome to behold, but Sarutobi was unaffected. “Ah!” he exclaimed suddenly as a heavy crack of thunder sounded. “Do you know that there are two kinds of thunder?”

It seemed that he had ignored the actual question, and Jiraiya failed to see why thunder might be relevant. His teachers often talked in stories and riddles to describe problems. He wished they’d just come straight out with the answers. He didn’t have the energy or the time to waste puzzling out their meanings. “Eh?” 

A deep, low rumble was his echo as the sky grumbled its displeasure again. “That sound, right there, is what is called the Old Thunder.” His words were accentuated by another streak of lightning that made Jiraiya’s eyes burn. “It’s quiet, unobtrusive, and calm. It has much to say, but knows that if you care to listen to it, you’ll lean in to hear.”

“I don’t see the point to—“

“Shh… now listen. Listen carefully.”

Jiraiya squinted at his sensei, but strained his ears regardless. The world was hushed for a moment but for the shush of rain upon the eaves. Then there was a loud _CRACK!_ and a growling sound as the thunder shook the rooftop. The volume and ferocity of it made Jiraiya’s young heart skip a few beats, and he loosed a deep breath that he hadn’t realized he was holding. As the sound died down, it was replaced by Sarutobi’s throaty chuckle. “And that was the young thunder. Loud, obnoxious, and insistent… a show off. Like you. It will not be ignored, whether you wish it so or not.”

His words rankled, all the more so because what he said was true. “I still don’t see the point, sensei.”

The older man sighed, opening his eyes for the first time and directing them skyward. “Whose lightning is the stronger of the two?” he asked, laying a hand upon the boy’s shoulders.

“Eh?” His lips contorted, struggling to see the lesson.

“Who has the stronger lightning, the Young Thunder or the Old?” He waited patiently as his student searched for an answer.

Jiraiya thought about it. He tried to find a way in his head to compare the two bolts of lightning he had just seen. Besides a slight variation in the shape and the path they took across the sky, he failed to see much of a difference at all. Suspicion prickled. “Is this a trick? They seem pretty much the same to me.” He crossed his arms.

Sarutobi smiled and thumped his back. “Exactly. So why draw so much attention to yourself, when in your heart you _know_ you are just as strong as your teammates? You might even be stronger, if anyone wished to test you and find out.”

Realization dawned. At long last, he’d finally been told the point of the story. He opened his mouth to say he understood, but Sarutobi wasn’t done yet. “Don’t worry about it, my boy. Not everyone has to choose one way or the other, but not everyone is as sharp or as fierce as lightning. And age comes with time. Be the Young Thunder for as long as you can. You’ll be the Old Thunder in time, and then you’ll continuously wish you were young again.”

He smiled, feeling more relaxed than he had felt in ages. He heard his sensei’s words and took them to heart. He was being told that he was generally a pain in the ass, but that it was at least okay to be so, as long as one day he grew up and matured and became _less_ of a pain in the ass. “Which one do girls like better?” he asked deviously, thinking of Tsunade, with her fiery eyes, soft hair, and heaving chest. He wanted her so badly that his chest ached.

Sarutobi laughed aloud, his voice in perfect synchrony with the Old Thunder. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a woman who didn’t love a good thunderstorm, Young and Old! And if there was one, I don’t think I’d want to meet her. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” he lied. What the hell was he going on about now?

“What I mean to say is, there are women who love the Young Thunder, and women who love the Old Thunder. There are women who love the lightning, regardless of the thunder, and there are women who’d rather just skip a good thunderstorm and stay content with just the rain. Be whichever one you want, and you’ll find the one who loves you best.”

He frowned. He didn’t like the sound of that. He wanted Tsunade. So one day he asked her. “What’s your favorite part of a thunderstorm?” He fervently hoped he was being clever in asking, and that perhaps she would fall right into his trap, and then he would know who to be.

But she looked confused. “What? Is this some new and special way to be a pervert?” she asked with suspicion. “Only you could make something as natural as a rainstorm seem like a dirty magazine.” She rolled her eyes.

“Not a rainstorm,” he corrected. “A thunderstorm. What’s your favorite part?”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly searching for the part where he played a trick on her and tried to squeeze her tits. Finally she shrugged. “None of it. I prefer the sunshine.” With that, she walked away, curvy hips swaying as she walked.

He watched her go, speechless, enjoying the way her ass danced back and forth. When she was gone from sight, though, he became intensely frustrated. Sarutobi hadn’t prepared him for _that_ answer. So he went back to his pervy old sensei and dredged for answers. “What does it mean when a woman doesn’t like the storm at all, and instead wants the sunshine?”

Sarutobi blinked at him, then loosed his belly in a hearty guffaw. “Oh goodness, Jiraiya. That’s an answer you’ll just have to find out on your own. The good news is… I don’t think you’ll have to worry about Orochimaru stealing her away.” He winked mysteriously at his protege.

Jiraiya left the Hokage’s office more frustrated than when he entered, but he wasn’t getting any more comment out of either Tsunade nor Sarutobi.

He spent the rest of his life trying to figure out how a thunderclap becomes the sunshine, and never could quite figure it out.

**Author's Note:**

> This one was rather difficult. What in the hell is "young" thunder? :D I hope you liked my slanty interpretation of it.


End file.
